


Tonight

by justbygrace



Series: Inspired by Songs [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, rated for non-explicit sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3628842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by 'Hey Bartender' by Lady Antebellum & 'Take Your Time' by Sam Hunt and I refuse to apologize for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight

Rose is not there for anything other than a drink after an absolutely awful week at work. This isn't her regular spot but it's quiet with a good atmosphere and the bartender keeps her drink full and flirts without meaning it. Between her arsehole boss and patrons who love to parrot "the customer is always right" like it isn't plastered all over the shop, she needs quiet and a steady supply of alcohol. Shareen is here somewhere, probably chatting up the DJ, close enough to keep an eye out for potential drunk disasters and far enough to provide space; Rose really does appreciate her friend's understanding. She is two and a half drinks into forgetting when the stool next to her is scraped out and a lanky figure plops himself down.

John is there because he's here every Friday, fourth stool to the end, elbows on the bar, Jack's special hypervodka helping him forget a week in surgery. He doesn't expect anyone new here since The Bountiful Empire opened on Main and she's a surprise. Long blonde hair, eyes the color of her drink, ringed fingers splayed out across the counter - he speaks before he registers that there are circles under her eyes and lines on her forehead. He considers backing down, apologizing and moving seats but, though her eyes are guarded, her gaze turns towards him, brows raised and he forgets everything else. 

She regards him as he speaks in jagged syllables, her amusement is tinged with intrigue and she tamps down the urge to roll her eyes at the interruption. Somehow she knows if she cut him off he'd take it well and so she doesn't, letting him chatter aimlessly while the bartender drops his drink down without asking what he wants and refills hers. There's playful flirtation in his words and she finds herself relaxing as she recognizes the cadence of it - it's been so long since she played this game without fearing for her safety and she finds she's missed it. He might think he's being suave, but she knows where this is going and she finds she doesn't mind in the least.

He's at his most charming, her sparking eyes and upturned lips spurring him towards pulling out lines he hasn't relied on in ages. He doesn't have time for anything more than just tonight and he'd be willing to bet she isn't looking for more either. Given the exhaustion under the sparkle he'd guess she's there to forget and he is certain he'd be up for the job. There's always the chance she isn't interested, but her tone is teasing and her wing-woman hasn't appeared yet and he'd be willing to bet his next paycheck it's the brunette in the corner who has glanced over every thirty seconds for the last five minutes. When he suggests leaving, she doesn't even hesitate, dropping money on the counter and following him out the door with a nod towards the DJ's corner.

Rose can hardly believe she's doing this, but even as the thought crosses her mind she dismisses it - he wasn't exactly what she'd been looking for, but she's pretty sure he's exactly what she wants, at least for tonight. He wasn't kidding when he said he lived only five minutes away and the only thing she notices about the flat's decor is the smooth wood of the front door as her back slams it closed behind them. After that her only focus is his lips, his hands on her body, and it's been so long, too long, and she needs him here, now, immediately. It's wet and hot and messy and she doesn't even care. The second time they make it a little further and she registers he has a tan couch and then it's a landscape photo on the hall wall and then a tan trench coat on a hook by his bedroom door and by the time she discovers he has midnight blue bedspreads, she is reaching exhaustion of a whole different kind.

John has broken his own record for helping his partner come by the time he gives into his own urges and when he collapses, sated, on the bed beside her, her eyes are already closing. It hardly disturbs her when he slips from her, maneuvering the covers over them and chuckling when he discovers they are both still wearing socks. He's pretty sure her spending the night wasn't part of either of their original plans, but she is in no shape to move (if he does say so himself) and when she curls into his body, hair fanning over his chest, he wouldn't move her for the world. They can deal with whatever this is, or isn't, in the morning.


End file.
